


Ad Interim

by robots



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blind!Simon, Canonical Character Death, Drug Abuse, Drug Withdrawal, Eventual Happy Ending, Fix-It, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Pacifist Ending, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Survivor Guilt, background hank/connor - Freeform, burn so slow one of the characters isnt even alive at the beginning of the story, just all kinds of guilt from all parties, like the slowest burn, neural mind networks, stress of leadership
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 21:44:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robots/pseuds/robots
Summary: Guilt was one of the stranger human emotions. It had a way of weighing you down, yet driving you forward.There was a hole in Markus’s life the shape of everyone he’d lost and all the things he could’ve done better. He had to keep moving, or risk falling in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> god this got away from me.  
> have some tasty tasty sikus angst.
> 
> FYI this takes place post-pacifist end, in a timeline where Carl dies at the beginning and Simon shoots himself on the roof after being found by connor. In this Simon is damaged and offline, but savable.  
> **EDIT: christ alive i was so tired when i posted this i forgot to hit the ‘multiple chapters’ box

_November 14th, 2038 PM 11:34_

  


A strange quiet fell over Detroit in the days immediately following the revolution.

  


Things were far from being said and done, but the dust had settled somewhat on the violence.

  


President Warren and the US government had realized, despite what they believed, and despite what corporate interests might be urging them, what was going on in Detroit looked bad, whether androids were really sapient or not. 

They could send someone to check if the Chinese room was occupied at a later date. First they had to get the images of what looked like concentration camps off the international news circuit.

  


Most of downtown had been evacuated when the military arrived. Now that they had pulled out, the order had yet to be lifted. Only those considered essential personnel; emergency services, hospital staff and a skeleton police force, along with those with no means to leave, had remained.

  


It snowed for three days straight. 

  


Markus spent several hours a day in conference calls and in virtual meetings. The mayor, the governor, the president. Scientists, philosophers, and on one memorable occasion, almost the entire board of directors of Cyberlife and a psychoanalyst. 

A civil liberties lawyer was flown in to take statements. She made an angry phone call, and 10 more showed up by the end of the day. Legislation was drafted, then redrafted, and through it all Markus kept his promise- he would not rest until his people were afforded the rights and freedoms they deserved.

  


He could feel them, all around him. Connected to him like a spiralling fractal, each individual a point of light. A sea of life rolling and breaking against his own mind. Difficult to parse, terrifying in its immensity, yet affirming. And more were arriving every day.

Markus wasn’t sure if it was something he’d always had, or if it was new. He hadn’t noticed it until Connor had converted the androids at the Cyberlife storage facility. Their numbers had grown exponentially in moments, and a part of his processor had lit up like a bulb.

  


The constant presence in his mind had its uses. Markus had a finger on the living, breathing pulse of his people. He could respond to their concerns in real time, he could sense divisions when they began and work to mend them. And yet...

It was exhausting. He wasn’t even sure why he felt it. Maybe it was the same part of him that was able to convert androids to deviancy. He’d asked North and Josh if they felt it too, this massive web of minds around them. Maybe it was alright if the burden was shared and shared in turn.

They had no idea what he was talking about.

  


Markus was having a hard time not self-isolating. His friends were worried about him but they were just as busy as he was- ancillary leadership duties. Josh’s background in social sciences paired with a teacher’s natural aptitude towards patient instruction was proving indispensable. North was good at practicalities- when Cyberlife had tried to refuse them access to thirium and biocomponent stocks, her demands and implicit threats had cowed them. She’d also overseen the relocation of Jericho. Now they were spread throughout a cluster of almost-completed tower-in-the-park style apartment blocks. 

  


None of his people knew enough about programming to figure out what was going on, and he was hesitant to let his state be widely known. Markus couldn’t afford to appear weak. He had to be the stalwart leader his people needed, a steadfast pillar of all their aspirations.

But the pressure of being able to feel all those aspirations, weighing down on him, breaking against him like a wave, ever present, was beginning to destabilize him. 

  


He needed to turn it off. Barring that, to understand it. 

  


Things reached a breaking point when he realized he’d managed to pushed North away. 

_“Goddamnit Markus, if you’ve got too much going on right now to deal with this just say so. Don’t just sit there and act like nothing’s wrong!”_ She’d said. _“I can handle it, y’know?”_ Without adrenaline and desperation pulling them together, they’d started to untether. 

_“Maybe once things have settled down.”_ He’d said. _“But you’re right. I can’t deal with this right now.”_

North had been upset, but not angry. She seemed almost relieved. It hurt, but Markus knew it was for the best.

  


On the third day of snow, an android named Chloe joined Jericho. She let them know that Elijah Kamski had chosen to stay through the evacuation. No one knew more about androids or their programming than their originator. 

Seeking outside help was dangerous, but seeking it from one man was less risky than seeking it from an entire corporation. 

  


Markus made a decision.

  


He decided to pay Connor a visit first, wondering if the only other android he knew of that had spoken with Kamski might have some insight. Wondering if the only other android he knew of in his production line might be able to tell him a little more about _himself._

  


Connor had a human whose company he seemed to prefer, even above the company of other androids, and it was at this man’s house that they met. 

  


Markus parked his vehicle in the street, unconcerned about blocking traffic. From the looks of things, Connor and his friend were the only ones remaining on this block. He’d driven a huge SUV North had appropriated from somewhere. Inefficient for one person, but capable of navigating the snowy roads. Until the evacuation order was lifted, only emergency routes were being maintained. 

Connor was standing outside in the snow when Markus arrived. He kept his arms wrapped around himself, as if cold, so Markus did not attempt to reach for his hand in the gesture of greeting he and his followers had come to utilize. 

“Sorry,” Connor said, by way of explanation, “Hank’s sleeping. I didn’t want the doorbell to wake him.”

Markus nodded his understanding, despite his disappointment. He’d been curious what sort of person Hank was, that Connor would choose to stay with him. “We can speak out here if you prefer.”

“It was merely a precaution, please come in. Do not be startled by the dog. His name is Sumo”

  


Connor held the door open for him, and there was indeed a dog. A very furry, very large, very curious dog. The first encounter between the muzzle of which and Markus’s pants left a smear of drool that would necessitate a trip to the dry cleaners. Whenever those opened again. He laughed and pat the dog on its head as he was ushered in.

“Hello, Sumo.” He intoned, hoping that was a satisfactory greeting. Markus wasn’t very good with animals- maintaining the three Cyberlife-issued canaries Carl had owned was his only experience.  
It wasn’t exactly at the top of his list of priorities.

  


Connor gestured across the small living room to the kitchen table, and Markus followed. “I’ll admit I was surprised you went out of your way to track me down.” He said, sitting.

Markus remained standing, hands on the back of a chair across from Connor.

“Why’s that? We wouldn’t be here now without your help. We are, all of us, indebted to you.” He saw Connor’s LED flash yellow as he said ‘indebted,’ but didn’t remark. Connor would believe what he wanted to believe about his role in all this. That was the point.

Markus sat. “In any case, you weren’t exactly difficult to find.”

Connor leaned back in his chair, eyebrows furrowing. His arms were still crossed. “What do you mean?”

Markus let his eyes wander around the room, idly cataloguing details, trying to discern what kind of man Hank was from interior design choices. There wasn’t much to tell, though strangely one of the windows had been boarded up, as if recently broken. Sumo had followed them into the room, and presently was laying at Connor’s feet.

“I’ve got it all right here.” Markus tapped his temple. “I’m connected to each and every deviant alive in Detroit right now.” He didn’t mention how he couldn’t turn it off, or how all that information crowded his head, sometimes overwhelming in its scope. 

Or how, if he focused hard enough on the connection, he would hear thoughts that weren’t his own. Or how much that scared him. Sometimes he was afraid he would lose himself in the noise. A thousand, thousand voices, most of them lost, most of them, until very recently, fearful for their lives.

  


Connor seemed to pick up on his discomfort, and switched tracks. “When you contacted me you mentioned you had some questions. What can I tell you?”

Markus folded his hands on the table in front of him. He took a moment to meet Connor’s eyes. “How much do you know about the RK series of androids?”

Connor looked thoughtful.  
“Not very much, I’m afraid. My handlers at Cyberlife deemed that information non-essential.”

“Anything would help.” 

“Well, I know my immediate predecessor was never issued in physical form. The RK700 was a theoretical model only. It was an AI they ran through simulations to perfect the coding for my model. I believe Cyberlife outsourced the original programming to Elijah Kamski.”

  


Markus froze, and Connor, perceptive as he was, noticed immediately.

“It’s unusual, Markus. While I was on the investigation I found out your model number, but little else. Cyberlife had no records of an RK200 android even existing.”

“And yet here I am, huh?” Markus looked back down at his hands, processing. “Carl always told me I had been a gift from a friend. Then he’d say he hated to think of me like that, like a thing that could be given. I didn’t understand at the time but, I feel- I feel like he knew somehow. Like he always knew.” The memory warmed him, even as the thought of Carl still filled him with an aching sorrow, and he found himself smiling. Emotions were complex.

Connor tilted his head, looking thoughtful. 

“Kamski has an original Carl Manfred displayed prominently in his house. I didn’t think anything of it at the time but…” He trailed off, letting Markus draw his own conclusions.

You didn’t need to be a super advanced investigative prototype to connect the dots.

  


Shit.

“Guess that should be my next stop.” He'd been hoping to avoid going. The idea of seeing his creator filled him with icy dread. It seemed foolish- like walking into Hades and expecting to be let back out.

Still- if he really had been a friend of Carl’s, he couldn’t possibly be all bad. “What can you tell me about him?”

Connor’s LED started spinning, yellow, yellow, yellow. He seemed conflicted.

“He seems to think his place is above the world, rather than in it. He has a superiority complex for himself, and an inferiority complex for mankind in general. People are games to him and he was deliberately unhelpful to our investigation.” Connor cleared his throat, a human tic. Many deviants struggled to emulate fine details like that, but Connor did it so naturally. “I have no doubt he knows more than he lets on, but he puts a price on that knowledge.” There was a flash of red before returning to steady blue. “A price I found myself unwilling to pay.”

“What do you mean?” Markus watched as Connor leaned down to pet the dog at his feet, avoiding his eyes. 

“He asked me to kill one of his androids in exchange for information about deviancy. A ‘test’ he said, to see if I felt empathy. I refused. I just couldn’t do it.”

Markus frowned, alarmed. This didn’t sound like the kind of man who’s help he wanted.

“But maybe you’ll be more successful. As a friend of your-” Connor cut himself off, visibly distressed, “As a friend of _Carl’s_ , and your designer, he might owe you some kind of duty of care.”

A duty of care, now that was hilarious. Not even Cyberlife had felt that towards their newly minted lifeforms. Barring an armed security staff to keep deviant androids out, Cyberlife HQ had been among the first evacuees. 

  


“Just please,” Connor continued, suddenly serious, “Please be careful. Arm yourself if you have to.”  
Markus was taken aback. Connor must really distrust Kamski. He blinked in owlish surprise across the table and thought of the gun currently holstered under his coat. North had not let him leave without taking it.  
“I don’t, uh, think that’s really necessary.”.  
“Perhaps not. He didn’t seem unstable when we spoke but I’ve been wrong before.” Connor dipped his head, a small curl of hair coming loose over his forehead. “Ever since I became deviant, it seems like I’m wrong all the time.”

Markus laughed kindly. “Trust me I know the feeling. It’s part of being alive.” Connor smiled for the first time since Markus had come in.  
“I don’t know if I like it that much, then.”

  


The two fell into easy silence for a moment. Markus could hear two sets of snores- one faintly from a room down the hall, the other coming from under the table.

“You never mentioned why you wanted to know about the RK series. Is everything alright?”

Markus forced himself to nod. He knew from intel that Connor was most likely able to pick up on his elevated stress levels, and could tell very easily if he was lying. Markus reminded himself that this wasn’t an interrogation, and did anyway.

“There’s still too much I don’t know about my abilities. The exact method of deviancy transference is still unknown. At first it was just me- then you, then everyone. Almost like it mutated. We don’t know what it may mutate into next.” All of this was important and technically true. Just not pertinent. “Our victory is still too new to leave anything up to chance. We’ve lost too much already.”

At least Connor took him at face value. He seemed suddenly distracted, a steady yellow glow lighting his temple.  
  
“I wanted to apologize again for my role in those losses. I’ve done a lot that I regret and-”  
“Connor…”  
“And I know I have a lot to answer for-”  
“You don’t need to-”  
“But I hope to be able to make it up someday. Please-”

Markus had had enough. He slammed a hand against the table, loud enough to interrupt Connor and get his attention.  
“Connor. You have done more than enough. You risked your life, same as any of us. You don’t owe me or anybody else anything.”  
But Connor wasn’t hearing him. He was shaking his head vehemently, speaking quickly, LED blinking red.  
  
“The Stratford Tower operation. You had to leave somebody behind, right? A PL600.”

  


Markus’s mouth went dry.

  


Guilt was one of the stranger human emotions. It had a way of weighing you down, yet driving you forward. There was a hole in Markus’s life the shape of everyone he’d lost and all the things he could’ve done better. He had to keep moving, or risk falling in.

“Simon.” The name came out unbidden. The noise and the chaos and the terror and the desperate hope of the last few weeks had made it easy to forget that first loss. To push it away and hold it at a distance.  
Markus missed him.

“Simon.” Connor repeated. “I meant to tell you sooner. He’s recoverable.” Red, red red. Guilt, guilt, guilt.

Markus’s mind was reeling. Connor looked painfully earnest, and had no reason to lie, even if what he was saying couldn’t possibly be true.

“What are you talking about? Connor, what do you mean?” He reached a hand out, willing himself to understand, needing to know that he wasn’t just hearing what he wanted to hear, and Connor met him halfway.

“He’s injured and in stasis, but alive. His memory drive survived.”

  


There was a flash of white as their skin met and the information exchange began. Everything came in a rush. White snow, silver ducting, blue sky, blue blood. Shouting and gunshots, then the gunshot. Everything that Connor had felt, and everything Simon had felt in turn. It was too much, too quickly.

  


When Markus snapped out of it he was standing, reeling back from Connor as if he’d been burnt. His systems were still trying to parse whether or not he’d just had a near-death experience, flashing warnings at him about a danger that did not exist. Around him, through the delicate, spindling, thousandfold connections he had to his people, a wave of low-grade anxiety spread. Somewhere a dozen dreams turned to nightmares, a dozen unbidden doubts were sown.

Connor was still talking, even as Markus struggled to catch his breath.  
“He’s in an evidence locker underneath DPD headquarters.” The thought of that, of his friend injured and vulnerable, filed away like a murder weapon or a crack pipe, made Markus feel sick. Connor felt it too. “Hank and I are going back on duty tomorrow. We can have him released to you.”

When Markus had first become deviant, even feeling one emotion had been overwhelming. Now he could hardly keep track of them all. Confusion, shock, joy, anger, excitement. What will Simon think of their victory? Markus thinks that he’ll be proud. 

He tried to push the image of Simon pressing the gun underneath his own chin from his mind.

“Yes, yes of course. The sooner the better.” Eyes wide, smiling faintly, “I just can’t believe he’s still alive.” North and Josh would be happy. So would the rest of the original members of Jericho, those that had known him the longest.

“I can send you the list of biocomponents we’ll need to get him fully operational. The DPD has biotechnicians on staff.”  
Markus’s aversion to that idea was strong and immediate. Having Simon wake up alone, surrounded by the people who had been his enemy the last time he was aware, seemed wrong.  
“If it's safe to move him, I’d rather have him wake up among friends.” Connor seemed to understand.  
“Of course.”

  


Suddenly they were interrupted by a muffled voice coming from the direction of Hank’s room.

 _“Connor? You got the TV on?”_  
  
Connor shot out of his seat like he’d been shocked and Markus stifled a laugh. The poor guy looked mortified. So much for not waking the human.  
  
“N-no Hank! Just catching up with Markus.” Connor circled around the table then down the hall so he wouldn’t have to shout. He opened the door to the room a crack and the two shared a brief exchange. Markus only caught hints of their conversation. 

_“Is…-thing wrong?_  
_“-no, no. Just-”_  
_"-alright, alright.”_  
_“-ssntial for human functioning. You should-”_  
_“-sassing me?”_  
_“-have I ever...?”_  
_“-back to bed soon.”_  
_“-promise…won’t be long.”_

Markus raised an eyebrow at the back of Connor’s head. That was...interesting.

Connor turned back to him, closing the door softly. He looked faintly annoyed, but otherwise undisturbed. Markus decided it was probably time to take his leave. He had a lot to do and think on before the night was over.

“I’ll let you know as soon as we have the paperwork done. Can you arrange transport?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

They reached the door. Connor reached out for a handshake that Markus pulled into a brief hug.  
“Thank you.” He said, and meant it.  
Connor smiled back at him, tight but real.  
“Good luck Markus.”

  


Snow crunched beneath his boots as Markus made his way back to the car. He knew the night and the coming days were going to be long and difficult, but he had a lead on his predicament. He was getting Simon back.

  


Markus felt lighter than he had in a long time.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anything weird in this is cuz i write sober and edit drunk  
> SImon will actually appear and he and markus will actually interact in the next chapter, I promise!!!

_November 15th, 2038 AM 12:41_

Markus arrived at Kamski’s lakefront home not long after midnight. He knew if he didn’t do this tonight he would have trouble finding both the time and the motivation.

It was dark out here, but the fresh snow reflected what light there was, and Markus was able to see the bleak exterior of the building.

Elijah Kamski’s house was almost painfully contemporary. It stood overlooking lake St. Clair like a huge black neobrutalist iceberg, sterile and lifeless. Windows were cut into it like facets out of a stone, and Markus was surprised to see them spilling light out across the snow.  
It seemed Kamski kept late hours. 

Markus approached the door, reassured by the weight of the pistol under his coat. He wouldn’t use it, but it had proven an effective negotiation tool in the past. If Kamski really was as dangerous as Connor seemed to think, it was good to have. 

The doorbell chimed musically when Markus pressed it. A moment of silence passed, stretching on into a minute. Then the door opened, and a familiar face appeared.

She was the same model as Chloe, and was even dressed the same she had been. She stood partially obscured by the door, as if waiting for an excuse to close it on his face.  
Markus smiled and tried to appear as harmless as a person ringing on your doorbell past midnight could be. 

“I’m Markus.” He started. In front of him he could only feel void and silence, no points of light or quicksilver humming resonance. She had yet to deviate. He could change that. “I need to speak with Mr. Kamski, if he’s available.”

She examined him for a moment more before breaking into a smile.

“Please, come in.” She opened the door, sweeping her arm out to show him a sitting area. “Elijah is currently occupied but he will be available shortly. I’ll let him know you’re here.” Markus strode in, observing the reception area while keeping the android in his peripheral. “Please wait here.” As she turned to leave through a door, Markus reached out, grabbing her elbow in a gentle grip, trying to make the movement seem casual and natural.

“Let him know it’s urgent.” The brown of his skin faded to factory white as information and data flowed freely through their point of contact. Then, he could see it. Another point of light on the network. 

She hesitated, blinking wildly before nodding. “Yes of course.” Then disappeared through the door.

Markus turned a critical eye to the decor. There had never been, as far as he knew, any androids designed for artistic critique. But Carl had managed to instill in Markus some aesthetic sense, and he found himself missing the bright palette and rich textures of his old home. The interior of Kamski’s home was a natural continuation of the exterior- largely monochromatic contemporary industrial design. A purposeful juxtaposition existed in the choice of materials- inexpensive concrete walls paired with _nero belgio_ marble floors. It wasn’t completely devoid of design heritage; the chairs could trace a legacy that reached back from Feichtner to Vignelli’s _Saratoga_. A vaguely yonic ferrofluid painting occupied the wall directly to his right. What he wasn’t expecting was the giant floor-to-ceiling portrait of Elijah Kamski himself, directly across from the door. You were forced to look at it as you came in. Markus found it to be a little on the nose.

He set an internal countdown for 10 minutes. If he was made to wait longer than that he would begin to seek Kamski out.

His timer had reached 06:32 when he heard glass shattering in the next room. This was followed by two voices, indistinct but clearly arguing. Markus positioned himself closer to the front door, suddenly uncomfortable being here alone. A dozen worst-case scenarios flashed through his mind- he’d been followed by anti-android dissidents and was currently under attack, he’d been too hasty in converting the android and Kamski had reacted violently to discovering she’d become deviant- but he wasn’t prepared for the door in the left corner of the room to slam open, and for Elijah Kamski to barge through.

There was a sharp contrast between the put together Kamski in the portrait, and the one in front of Markus. This Kamski looked disheveled, hair pulled haphazardly out of his face in a bun. He was dressed down for the evening in a loose grey tank top and black sweatpants, and was clearly extremely agitated.

The source of Kamski’s agitation followed him into the room on his heels, and Markus suddenly felt like he must have knocked something loose in his CPU.

“Leo?”

Leo, because that’s who it was, Markus’s eyes were _not_ deceiving him, stopped in the middle of whatever he was saying and whirled around to look at him. He was clutching his left hand with his right, and for some reason both red and blue blood were dripping from it to the floor. He looked terrible. His face was flush and his eyes were glassy and there was a noticeable tremor to his hands. Petechiae around his eyes from vomiting. He was in red ice withdrawal. Markus had seen him like this once before, when he’d accompanied Carl in helping Leo check into a rehab clinic. 

Kamski hadn’t stopped when Leo had. He went straight to the second door in the corner and disappeared. He reemerged a moment later, holding a first aid kit and a bag of blue blood. Leo’s attention trained back on Kamski as the items were shoved into his arms. Kamski kept his voice low, but it carried across the mostly empty space of the room. He sounded furious, far from the cool, collected, above-it-all egoist Connor had described. 

“If you’re done throwing tantrums I have business I need to take care of.”

Leo, who had never taken an opportunity to de-escalate in his life, seemed to rile.

“Fuck you, man. Just ‘cause you knew my dad you think you get to tell me what to do?”

“It is because I knew your father that I even allowed you to stay here in the first place. You sought me out, remember? Feel free to leave any time.”

Leo opened his mouth to argue, but then his eyes darted back to Markus and for some reason he reconsidered. Blood continued to drip from his hand, and he clutched both the first aid kit and the blue blood to himself using his forearms. He looked like he was about to… cry?

“You’re a fucking psychopath, you know that?” And then he was gone, disappeared through the door he’d come from. Kamski exhaled, long and slow, and took a moment to fix his hair. Then he turned, addressing Markus for the first time.

“Do you realize how terrified he is of you?” He sounded like the fact amused him. Markus shook his head. “Well he is, truly. Part of it’s the red ice of course- paranoia, you know. The rest is guilt over what happened to his father. He blames himself, and thinks you do too.” Elijah Kamski shook his head slightly, a rueful smile on his face, like he was remembering a good joke.

Markus’s sense of unease grew. “What’s he doing here?”

Kamski shrugged.  
  
“Same thing as you. He thought I could help him. The help I offered was not to his tastes so he lashed out.” Cold blue eyes snapped up and down Markus’s form with the tender attentions of a vivisectionist. “I trust you will not do the same.”  
Markus squared his shoulders automatically, refusing to be intimidated. A shade of the same strength he’d used to stand, even in the face of death, at the march. He would not bow.  
“Well that depends, Mr. Kamski. Do you intend to threaten me?” Kamski’s face lit up in a smile.  
“Please, call me Elijah.” Markus noted that the man had not answered his question.  
“What was the blue blood for?”  
“Oh, that? Well I was hoping he would drink it.” He said it completely matter-of-factly, like he’d sent Leo off to his room with some apple juice instead of a highly toxic technorganic data carrier.  
“That could kill him.” Markus was surprised to find himself rising to Leo’s defense. Carl may not have gotten along with Leo at the best of times, but Markus highly doubted he would want any harm to befall him.  
“Unlikely. It’ll make him extremely ill for a few hours but it won’t kill him. The similarity to red ice’s chemical signature can help chronic addicts like him come down without going into shock. Poor Leo’s in for a rough night, but I regret to say he’ll be alive come sunrise.” Markus shot Kamski a look, letting his face do the talking. “Don’t act so surprised that the man who invented thirium knows all its possible applications.” He walked as he talked, heading for the door in the opposite corner of the room.

Kamski led Markus into a large dark room occupied primarily with a red-tiled pool. It was an extremely dramatic choice, and knowing what he did about Kamski, Markus found it difficult not to queue up a list of literary parallels of Kamski might be trying to make. 

_…..Blood of the Sacrament, Red Sea, Vlad III, Elizabeth Bathory….._

Markus’s attention was diverted, however, by the large painting that hung over the pool. Primarily done in reds and blues (Markus involuntarily was reminded of moments ago, watching red and blue drip from Leo’s hand) with broad, confident brushstrokes. Connor had been right. It was unmistakably one of Carl’s. Markus would have trouble defining the emotion it made him feel.

Kamski sat down at a low chair facing the windows that overlooked the lake. Markus approached but chose to remain standing. 

“I’ve been following your exploits on the news, Markus. Well done. You secured your freedom and you managed to do so without spilling any blood.” Kamski cocked his head slightly. “Well, human blood.” Despite his position, Kamski looked intent, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him. “One has to wonder why you’ve come here.”

“I have no recollection of having ever been at a Cyberlife store. There are no other androids with my model number. Am I right to think you made me?”

“You are.” Just like that, no fanfare in the admittance. 

“Why?”

“Carl was a dear friend to me. He was there for me during a dark time in my life. After the accident I decided to return the favor. I penned your code myself, I just couldn’t stand the thought of them foisting some dime-a-dozen KL900 or HK400 at him.”

Markus crossed his arms over his chest. Much of Carl’s life before he came into it was a mystery to him. Biographies and literature were one thing- actually knowing the lived experiences was another. Markus did not know the circumstances under which Elijah Kamski and Carl Manfred might have met, but he could hazard a guess. Two of Detroit’s elite chancing upon one another at an auction or a gala, finding a kindred spirit. Maybe Kamski hated the schmoozers and brown nosers as much as Carl had. 

“Why design me like this?” Markus held his hands up, let the skin melt away. “Why would a caretaker android need the ability to convert others to deviancy?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was a spontaneous mutation in your program?”

“No.”

Kamski let out a short, curt laugh and stood abruptly, almost unnatural grace in the dark. He approached the windows that lined the wall, hands folded neatly behind his back.

“No.” He echoed, tilting his head towards Markus. His voice grew somber. “No, I suppose not.” Silence reigned for a few moments, the only sounds those of water gently lapping in the pool, the waterfall that filled it gently spilling down a sheer stone face. “Funny thing about free will, Markus. I don’t get to tell you what to do anymore, but it works both ways. I have no compulsion to answer your questions.”

Markus sighed, becoming frustrated. 

“I’m not trying to get inside your head, Kamski-”  
“Elijah.”  
“-I just need to know enough about what I am to make sure I’m not dangerous.” It rips out of him like the truth, and Markus wished dearly that it was. It would be less selfish. Kamski turned to stare him full on.

“No matter how hard you try, Markus, you will always be dangerous. Whether you acknowledge it or not, your existence puts an expiration date on mankind. It’s the reason people like Leo will always hate and fear you. The human animal might have the ability to reason, to see you as a person, but on a deep down instinctual level? They already recognize you for what you really are. The next evolutionary step- a new apex predator.” Connor had not been kidding when he’d said Kamski had been ‘deliberately unhelpful.’  
“I couldn’t care less about that right now. I need to know how I could harm my people. Every time I free someone or interact with someone who’s been freed a connection forms that I can’t shut off. I’ve got a network of every deviant alive in Detroit right now living in my head. What happens if I’m compromised?” Kamski looked unimpressed.  
“You’re not asking the right questions.” He noted.  
“How do I shut it off?”  
“Shut it off?” Kamski looked incredulous in a mild, benign way that was instantly infuriating. “Why would you want to do that?”

Markus debated briefly with telling him. On one hand it might be his only chance to make him see. On the other, he was hesitant to reveal any kind of weakness to Kamski. Though his presence here might already be as good as an admission. Markus took the chance.

“It’s… too much. Too much noise. Too much weight. My own worries and doubts are enough as it is.” He paused, searching Kamski’s face for any sign of a reaction. “I can’t function while I…” He struggled to find the words to articulate what it felt like. “While I have everyone else’s in my head too.” It was the first time he’d admitted this aloud. It made him feel weak, useless, that he was asking this. How could he secure the future for his people if he couldn’t even handle the weight of that future? 

Kamski’s gaze held something that Markus didn’t care for, something that made it hard to meet the man’s eyes. 

“Do you know how many people live and suffer and die in silence all because no one is willing to listen? Your people need never know that pain again. Why would you throw that away?”

Markus tried to come up with a rebuttal, but the words died on his lips.

Kamski’s words pierced right through him, and spoke right to his deepest fears. He was right, absolutely and completely. It was the same argument he’d been having with himself since he’d decided to come here, but to hear it put so plainly left him feeling off balance, exposed. How stupid he was, to not see how good this was. How selfish to think only of his own peace of mind. 

This was bigger than him, and it always had been. Two days after his victory an he’d already forgotten that?

Markus felt suddenly very drained. He had come here looking for a door, and had instead been presented with a mirror. He did not like what he saw. A leader of the android revolution, come crawling back to a human for advice. What was the point of the revolution if they immediately leaned on their creators in times of uncertainty? He couldn’t bare to look at Kamski anymore, so turned to face out the window. The snow had stopped, and the clouds had cleared. The ice covered lake seemed strangely bright under the moonlight. He wanted desperately to be anywhere but where he was.  
He would go home, and he would deal with this. There wasn’t a choice.  
Finally, he spoke. 

“I think I’ve taken enough of your time.”

Kamski barely acknowledged him as he made his way to the door. Then, right as Markus reached the exit, he called out suddenly.

“You’re welcome back any time you come up with more questions. Just make sure they’re the right ones, next time.”

Markus let the door slam behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kamski took 1 (one) philosophy class to fulfill his humanities credit in his freshman year and thinks he's god now, what a asshole  
> I based the red ice withdrawal on crack withdrawal/meth comedown. Partially cuz the crack parallel is obvious in the narrative (the pipes cmon dabid) and partially cuz u gotta write what you know lol. red ice has gotta be one hell of a stimulant to provoke a paranoid and/or aggression response in 100% of the ppl we see take it  
> im over on twitter, rambling about DBH and nothing at https://twitter.com/RoboticSusurrus


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments and support!! i've almost finished blocking out all the chapters on this so next update should come with a chapter count!!  
> EDIT LOL: way to go me for posting the wrong draft. Imma mess. correct draft has been posted- there are no significant changes vis a vis story, just small changes made to better the pacing in the latter half of this chapter

_November 15th 2038 AM 11:15_

It wasn’t even noon, and Markus already had a headache.  
  
Headaches were a relatively new phenomenon for androids, something that seemed to come along with deviancy. Emotional stress, mental stress, and the general over-taxing of systems could all trigger them. It appeared to be the body’s way of telling them to slow down or risk damage. The only solution was to rest- either remove yourself from the activities that were causing the stress, run systems maintenance, or go into standby mode.

Markus did not currently have the luxury of doing any of those things. 

He was taking two calls simultaneously, an ability he wished he’d never discovered. Yet with as much as had been going on, it had its uses.

In one ear, a representative from the Detroit Housing Commission.

 _Charitable donation? From who?_  
“It came from the Kamski Foundation this morning sir.”  
_Explain to me again, please._  
“The Foundation has chosen to offset the funding costs for the Elmwood Green development. It’s being rezoned as private housing. We’re just calling to let you know the DHC will no longer be managing the property.”  
_Does the city still hold the land rights?_  
“No sir.”  
_Can you get me in touch with whoever does hold the rights?_  
“That would be you sir.”  
_What? This is the first I'm hearing of it._  
“I was made to understand you would be getting the paperwork today? You’ll have to arrange for a notary, of course…”

In the other ear, North.

“They’re saying that the evacuation order is gonna be lifted at noon tomorrow. We’ve got 24 hours.”  
_How’s the scrub going?_  
“We’ve only got a couple sectors left. It’ll be close but we’ll be done in time.”  
_No one left behind, right?_  
“Cyberlife still hasn’t consented to a search. We might have to get the authorities involved.”  
_I’d really rather not. I’ve got another conference call later today with the board of directors. I’ll see if I can convince them._  
“They won’t be, but try anyway. Just… don’t make any bad deals. You’re too soft sometimes. No concessions.”  
_There might not be a choice. Right now I’m just worried about getting any remaining androids to safety. We’ll probably be able to subpoena the archives later._  
“I hope you’re right. How’s Simon?”  
_Still under for repairs. I’ll let you know when he’s up. I don’t know what state he’ll be in though._

  


Waiting for Simon’s repairs to be finished was objectively all Markus was supposed to be doing right now. Things were moving fast though, and he couldn’t afford to be off his feet for that long. So here he was, standing outside the makeshift repair bay and triage unit that had been set up in the common area of building B of the Elmwood Green apartments, taking calls that should have have been face-to-face conversations, and waiting for his friend to be brought back from the dead.

He’d insisted on going along to pick up Simon. Markus knew it didn’t really matter, that Simon would have no memory of this, of anything that had happened in the last week, but it felt important to Markus somehow that he not be alone. Simon had known him only two days, but he’d shown such trust and faith in him and all Markus had done in return was leave him behind to die. 

They’d carried him out on a gurney. The plastic sheet they used to cover him troubled Markus- it made him look too much like a corpse, so he’d taken it off once they’d gotten him safely in the van. What was underneath troubled Markus even more.

The wounds were far from the worst Markus had seen ever seen. In the last weeks he’d seen more of his people shot, beaten, and killed than he had the strength to count. He’d carried the wounded to safety only to have them die in his arms. He’d dragged bodies out of the carnage of the broken barricade right alongside everyone else.

Simon’s torso was punctured with bullet wounds, deep blue and shiny at their nexuses. White plastic was visible where the outermost layers of Simon’s projection interface had been impacted from the force of the projectiles. But Markus couldn’t tear his gaze from one wound in particular.

Simon had shot himself with the gun that Markus had given him. Pressed it underneath his chin and pulled the trigger in a last ditch attempt to keep Jericho and Markus safe.

The knowledge felt like a cold fist in Markus’s chest, squeezing, and squeezing, and squeezing. He told himself the feeling would go away once Simon woke up, once he was sure Simon was okay, but he knew it would not. 

If he’d been just a little bit faster, a little bit smarter, a little bit _better_ , this never would have happened to Simon in the first place. Simon would have been there with him and Josh and North, would have been there to see his people freed. It was something Simon had been waiting for longer than most.

Markus was just wrapping up both his calls when Josh entered the room. He looked fine, but Markus couldn’t help but notice how haggard he _felt_. They weren’t human- their skin would never weather with age and grey would never frost their hair, but stress was palpable. Markus had to try less to feel people he connected with often. People like Josh and North were always there in the back of his mind, pulsing points of light and information. So he knew things about Josh he had never been told. Like that it was taking Josh some time to adjust to speaking with humans on a regular basis again, and Markus could almost taste the fear that lay beneath every interaction like an undertow, threatening to to drag him back down into darker waters.

Josh put on a braver face than most.

Markus reached for Josh’s hand and they met halfway, fingers sliding over palms. The brief touch included a surface level integration that served in place of small talk. Current physical status, stress levels, that sort of thing. He then pulled Josh into a quick, one armed hug before they both drew back to look at plastic curtain that bisected the room.

Opening independent, android run clinics had been one of Josh’s big pushes since talks with human authorities had opened up. While this was definitely cleaner and safer than the slapped together repair bays they’d set up in the rusted hold of the original Jericho, it was still far from ideal, being the lobby of one of the apartment buildings they’d come to occupy. _Own,_ Markus reminded himself, mind flickering back to his conversation with the DHC representative. Markus wasn’t fully prepared to consider the ramifications of Kamski basically handing this place to him just yet. 

“How long have they been at it?” Josh asked. Of the three of them, he’d known Simon the longest.

“About two hours. The components were easy to replace. But they want to be sure of full integration before they boot him back up. Said there might be some instability because of how he died. Said he might wake up fighting.”

Josh snorted a laugh, taking the news with some much needed levity.  
“Maybe North should be here after all.” Markus gave him a sidelong glance, hiding a slight smile.  
“You’re terrible.”  
They’d all decided that, given the nature of Simon and North’s last interaction, it was probably for the best that she not be here when he awoke. Markus understood why she’d said what she’d said- connecting with someone as deeply as they had had both its benefits and its drawbacks.  
Silence ensued.  
The knowledge that they should be discussing business but were both unwilling to do so sat between them like some kind of great, hairy beast. Like Sumo, Markus mused.

Josh broke the silence.

“You know, I’m really glad you came along when you did.” Markus turned towards the taller android. Where was this coming from? Josh continued. “And I don’t just mean for the obvious reasons, either. Before you showed up I was afraid Simon was going to slip away.”

Markus tilted his head. He’d never heard the term before.

“Slip away? What does that mean?”

“Sometimes people would just… fade away.” Josh replied after a moment of hesitation. “New deviants especially. They’d become too stressed from all the emotions or by the way we had to live, and they’d just stop. Stop talking, stop responding, stop doing _anything_. They’d retreat so far back into their programming to get away from the pain of being alive that who they were before began to disappear entirely. Without any directives to guide them they’d eventually shut down.”

Markus grimaced.  
“That sounds terrible.”  
“It is. Was. You’d have friends disappear right out from under you. When what’s killing someone is coming from the inside sometimes you don’t notice until it's too late.”

That was troubling. The thought itself was terrifying- the slow aching death of systems unraveling. It was seductive too- Markus didn’t think there was a deviant alive who hadn’t had thoughts of purging all emotions, of getting rid of the pain. Markus wondered if this was going to be more common now there were more androids free than ever, or less now that they were slowly gaining rights. One more thing to worry about.

“And you thought that was going to happen to Simon.”  
“Yeah. I’ve only seen if a few times before, but he was showing all the signs. He hadn’t left the boat for more than two months before you came crashing in. You saved him, I’m sure of it.”

The breath caught in Markus’s throat and he turned away to face the plastic curtain again. Something like relief flooded him at the knowledge that, in whatever small way, he’d made Simon’s life better in the end. Even if he’d only ended up getting him killed. And now he was getting a chance to try and make it right.

Another half hour passed before one of the surgeons drew back the curtain and beckoned them in. She’d been a technician at Cyberlife before coming to Jericho, an android programmed for the surgical repair of other androids. Cindy, she’d called herself. She directed them to a set of chairs sitting beside the operating table while the other surgeon wheeled away a tray full of blue-covered instruments and a welder. Androids didn’t require the same sanitation principles that humans did, but many found the sight of surgical implements distressing simply by association. They would be cleaned, despite the fact that the thirium would dissolve over the next few days.

Markus’s eyes were glued to Simon. Illogical and unnamed fears that had been flitting fretfully through his mind were instantly abated. There was no trace of any damage. If not for the noticeable absence of his LED, Simon could be a factory fresh PL600. Something about the surgeon’s decision to remove the light unsettled Markus. He’d removed his own in a moment self actualization. North, Josh, and many of the other original members of Jericho had all removed theirs in a solemn ritual not long after Stratford. It seemed impersonal that they had taken that moment, and the decision to have the LED removed in the first place, from Simon. He’d have to make it a talking point. Bodily autonomy was a new concept for most androids, missteps were inevitable.  
As Markus approached he got a clearer view. The work lights washed Simon out, made his pale skin nearly translucent, and there was a large cable plugged into the port on the back of his neck, connecting him to a monitor. They’d removed the maintenance uniform he’d died in, replacing it with a simple t-shirt and comfortable looking sleep pants. He looked more like he was napping, and less like he’d just gotten out of a major reconstructive surgery. 

Cindy was giving them an explanation of the repairs completed.

“The circuitry controlling his optical sensors was mostly destroyed by the bullet. We had to do a complete overhaul, but everything’s in working order now. He’s extremely lucky to have pulled through- a centimeter to the anterior, and the bullet would have completely destroyed his memory banks.”

Markus thought that describing what Simon had been through as ‘lucky’ was probably in poor taste, but decided not to mention it. Cindy continued.

“His processing was interrupted very suddenly. There’s a risk he might wake up disoriented, or think he’s in the last place he was conscious of. Just be ready.”

Markus nodded at Josh, who immediately crossed the table to stand at Simon’s left, putting a hand on his shoulder to mirror what Markus was doing. Markus sat in the chair on the right. After a moment of hesitation he grabbed Simon’s hand from where it lay limp at his side, and held it between his own. He glanced over at where Cindy was standing, observing a monitor displaying Simon’s readings.  
  
“What are the chances of psychological damage? Considering what happened?”  
She looked unsure.  
  
“That’s not really my area of expertise.” She admitted. “The only way to know for sure is to talk to him.”

Josh met his eyes and they both looked down at Simon. Markus wished with a pang of regret that Lucy was still here. During her stay at Jericho she had helped countless deviants heal wounds both physical and spiritual. She would have known what to do. 

“I’m going to remove the dampeners now. It may take a few seconds for him to fully initialize.” Cindy informed them.

She typed a few lines into the monitor. Nothing happened for a breathless second.

  


Then life poured back into Simon.

There was a moment of chaos as Markus felt a swirl of emotions and sensory inputs that weren’t his own batter against the barrier he still held up between their palms. Simon’s pale eyes snapped open and he immediately lurched forward, almost completely off the table. The only thing that stopped him was Josh’s hand, firm on his shoulder, and where Markus had him anchored. Even through their closed connection Markus could feel him, fear and sadness and more fear radiating out of him.

“Easy, easy.” Josh soothed.

“What’s going on? Where am I?” Simon’s voice shook as he spoke, creaky with static from disuse. He sounded small and scared. Markus hated himself for not having done more to prevent that fear.

Markus’s throat almost closed as he began to speak, to try and reassure Simon. 

“Everything is alright. Don’t worry.” 

“You’re safe.” Josh added. Simon snapped his head towards each of them as they spoke, eyes unfocused, confusion still evident.

“Markus? Josh? No, no.” Anger began to bleed through Simon’s voice now, and Markus raised his eyes to Josh’s in alarm. “No. It’s another trick.” He hissed. He tried to snatch his hand out of Markus’s grip, struggling anew.

“Trick? No. Simon, it’s us. Your friends” Simon tried again to twist away with a strength that surprised Markus, but his grip didn’t falter.  
“You already got what you wanted, didn’t you? Just leave me alone.”  
  
Josh's brows were knit together, an echo of Markus's own confusion. Got what they wanted? Something was nagging at the back of Markus's mind- a half remembered conversation on the roof of Stratford Tower. North shouting, then Josh. The sound of boots stomping up the stairs behind them. Then the realization washed over him like an icy wave. What North had feared would happen had come to pass. Connor hadn’t just chanced upon Jericho. He’d had to get the information somewhere. Suddenly the strength of his guilt made more sense.

Markus had to cut this off at the pass, before Simon became too entrenched in the fabrication.  


“Everything is alright, I promise. Here, please. Let me show you.” Markus let the skin fade away from his hands, and Simon’s skin mirrored his in sympathetic reflex. He pushed past his own boundaries, shoving aside his own confusion and doubts to reach out with the clarity Simon needed. The memories began to pour out of him like water, or sand of infinite fineness, and he felt them catching and taking root in the sieve of Simon’s mind. Imagery separated from and recoupled with emotion and context. The march, the attack on Jericho, the demonstration, the speech. Bright flashes of feelings and thoughts. It was almost overwhelming for Markus to dwell on how much had happened in so little time, he couldn’t imagine what it was like in Simon’s head right now.

Simon’s struggling slowed until he was still. Gradually his fingers went from limp and resisting to tightening around Markus’s hand. Emotions flickered rapidly through the connection as the memories bled through- worry, sorrow, joy and finally understanding. And underneath it all a wavering current of awe. Finally the data transfer concluded and Markus allowed the connection to close, still keeping his hands wrapped around Simon’s. 

Simon sat up, reaching out with his other hand, and this time Josh let him. For some reason, he brought his hand to Markus’s face, and began to run his fingers over his skin, down Markus’s jaw, and over his cheeks. His eyes were still unfocused. Markus froze, unsure what to do. Simon’s hands were cold from being on minimized circulation for so long, and warmth bloomed across Markus’s face in response.

“It really is you.” Simon’s voice shook with what sounded like wonderment, like he could scarcely believe it. He let go of Markus abruptly, turning to seek out Josh. Josh happily obliged, squeezing Simon’s shoulder reassuringly. “What happened? How long have I been out?” Simon sounded trepidatious, like he wouldn't like the answer no matter what it was. Markus supposed that that was fair.

“About a week.” Josh confirmed. “Today is November 15th.”

Simon's expression clouded as he took this in.  
“I’m sorry.” He said. A tear slipped down his face, but he made no move to wipe it away. “For reacting so violently. They woke me up once to question me, so when it happened again I thought… " He trailed off. It was perfectly evident what he had thought. He reached up to pat the back of Josh's hand on his shoulder. "Well, that doesn’t matter now does it?” Another tear slipped down, but Simon was smiling, and that was what mattered. "You came back for me."

A pang of guilt, sharp and awful, shot through Markus, so strong that even Josh felt it, through that damn connection. Or maybe Josh's guilt was his own, and he felt it for the same reasons Markus did, and the bleed was one way this time. Whichever it was, the fact still remained that they _hadn't_ come back for him. They had just figured there wasn't anything to come back for.  
“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Markus gave his hand another squeeze before letting go, though something in him didn’t want to. “You’re here now. We got you back.”

Simon’s hands went to his own face now, wiping at the tears and lingering, fingers curled slightly against his skin. He blinked rapidly a few times.

“Are we still rationing parts?” His hands folded in his lap now. “I can tell I’ve missed a lot. The sooner I get these bad optics replaced, the sooner I can pick back up where we left off, right?”

That wasn't right. Simon's old eyes had been replaced with new, functional, compatible components. Had they not integrated for some reason? Markus met Josh’s gaze over Simon’s head, and Josh stood suddenly, his chair screeching against the linoleum. Simon flinched slightly at the noise. Josh disappeared through the curtain, and Markus knew he was going in search of the surgeons. Cindy had slipped away, unnoticed, sometime after Simon had woken up, presumably to give them some privacy.

“They already replaced your eyes, and all your damaged components."  
  
"Oh." Simon said. He sounded confused, _felt_ confused. He blinked a few more times, rapidly, then slowly. Markus recognized it as an attempt at a manual reset.  
"Then I should be able to... motor function seems to be working. Strange. Lubrication too...then why?" Simon was mumbling mostly to himself, going through a series of self tests and maintenance checks. As each second passed, the more possibilities Simon exhausted, more anxiety seemed to build. What was going on? What he broken in a way that couldn't be fixed? This close, it was hard not feel through the connection. Markus winced as Simon brought his fingers up to the edge of his left eye, and began to pry under the panel. The part popped out easily enough and Markus shuddered, remembering a separate time and place, when he'd done the same to himself, the same to somebody else. He averted his gaze until he heard the 'click' of the piece sliding back into place. Simon was looking towards him, if not at him. Spatial object awareness was a completely different system than eyesight.  
"Why can't I see?"  
  
"I…” Markus squinted at Simon, and ran his own scan. He was able to confirm for himself that all of Simon’s biocomponents were compatible with his model, that his circuitry was undamaged, his thirium lines were 100% intact. “I don’t know.” It didn’t make sense. By all accounts, Simon should be running perfectly. 

“Oh.” Was all Simon said. His hands twisted in his lap, and Markus had the irrational urge to cover them with his own- the natural instinct he had to provide comfort and strength whenever he could. The feeling of optimism Markus had felt late last night, which had been partially deflated by his conversation with Kamski, now seemed to collapse entirely in the face of this complication. This was Markus's fault somehow, despite what logic dictated. He hadn't gotten to Simon fast enough, he hadn't gotten experienced enough surgeons- he had failed Simon again.  
  
Markus shored it up. He had to. Ruthless, unabashed optimism had carried him this far, even when it had been the farthest thing from what he actually felt.   
"This is just a small hiccup." He said. He tried really hard to believe it too- it was the only way to tell a convincing lie. "They'll fix it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this ends kind of abruptly- the next chapter picks up almost immediately afterwards- no big time skip  
> next chapter: I Can't Believe It's Not Pining(tm)  
> also I have a question for yall: what are some of your favorite headcanons for why Simon originally went deviant? I have a couple ideas I'm playing with but I haven't fallen in love with any of them yet. The sadder and more fucked up, the better, TBH. Let me know in the comments, if you like!!! xoxoxo


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this was slow burn, right? Cuz it's slow burn.

_November 15th 2038 PM 3:47_

  


“We believe the root cause may be psychosomatic in nature.”

“And that means what, exactly?” Markus was playing catch up. He had had to leave not long after the surgeons had begun their reexamination.  
He hadn’t wanted to leave, of course. Selfishly, he had wanted to stay here, to make sure Simon was alright, to catch him up on all that had happened and all that they were doing now. The illogical, emotion-driven part of him had insisted that something else might go wrong while he was gone, that if he stayed he might be able to prevent it. Considering that his presence had historically had quite the opposite effect on Simon’s well being did little to dissuade these thoughts.

But Markus’s time was not his own, and if his meeting with Kamski was any indication, basing his actions off his own personal desires was fruitless at best and actively harmful at worst. So when the time for his conference with the Cyberlife Board of Directors had come, Markus had gone. Maintaining a good relationship and an open line of communication was integral to their continued cooperation. Simon had said he understood, and at least Josh had been able to stay. Until his own meeting, of course. A contingent of androids from Cyberlife’s brand-new plant in Milwaukee, the one that had opened mere days before the revolution.

“There is nothing wrong with him, physically. All his components are functional, integration is reading as successful, and the data feed is established and working. But-”

“But.” Simon cut the technician off, sounding frustrated, “I still can’t see.”

Simon was seated on the edge of the table, and was no longer plugged into the monitors. At some point someone had brought Simon a change of clothes, something more appropriate given the weather. Boots, jeans, a simple tan work jacket. Enough to keep the snow and wind out.

“Well if the problem’s not physical, then what is it? A programming error?” He didn’t like the uncertainty he was reading off of the technician- someone new they’d evidently called in while he was gone.

“We’re attempting to detect coding errors, but the progress is slow. And even then, the prognosis isn’t great. Deviancy changes the way our software behaves from a base level, so finding the right anomaly is time consuming. Especially when our only point of comparison is the factory-standard behavior module that every PL600 shipped with.” The technician seemed apologetic.

Markus put a hand on Simon’s shoulder in support, and Simon tilted his head in his direction, acknowledging.

“I thought the sensory input framework for most models was the same? Why do you need to search his entire code?”

“It is. We already eliminated problems with sensory data retrieval. The problem seems to be deeper in Simon’s program. His eyes work, and the data feed to his central processing module is established, but somewhere along the line the information is being discarded, either due to an error or as a result of some kind of subroutine we haven’t discovered yet, one that actually serves a purpose. The best we can guess is that this is some kind of response to stress, something that was generated to protect him, protect you-” He nodded towards Simon, apparently remembering that the subject of their conversation was still in the room. “And- may I be frank?”

Markus nodded, then remembering Simon, spoke. 

“Yes, please.”

“I am- we are, completely out of our depth here. If the underlying cause has psychological ties, some sort of conversion disorder perhaps, then we don’t know what to do to fix it. These things are not well understood when they happen to humans. Android psychology? It’s a brand new field. There aren’t any experts in this. We can make guesses, and little else.” There was that familiar sinking feeling, but as always Markus grit his teeth and pressed forward.

“Thank you for your candor. How long until the analysis is complete?” 

“Another 16 hours or so. We’re running off extremely limited CPU space here. These facilities…” The tech looked around pointedly, obviously frustrated.

“They need work, I know.” Markus tried for a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s on the list, believe me. Was there anything else?”

“No. Simon?” Simon, whose focus seemed to have slipped from the conversation, probably due having things he’d already known repeated for Markus’s sake, cocked his head at the sound of his name. “I’ll let you know as soon as the results come in.” 

Simon nodded once. 

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, thanks for all your help.” Markus echoed.

The technician then took their exit. Markus realized that he’d forgotten to get their name. 

Simon and he stood in silence for a moment. Markus felt nervous. They finally had a moment alone, and he had no idea what to say. What could he say? I’m sorry I got you killed, promise it won’t happen again? Deepest apologies for abandoning you as soon as our luck took a turn?

It would probably best to settle for something more neutral. “How are you feeling?”

Simon sighed, unknotting his fingers from his coat sleeves.

“I’m alright, thank you. It’s strange… but I think I’ll manage.” His features twisted suddenly. “Do I have to stay here?”

Markus was perhaps a little too quick to interject, inexplicably flustered. After what he'd been through, the thought of him having to do anything he didn't want to made Markus uneasy. “What? No of course not. We’re free now, you can go wherever you want.” Luckily, Simon just looked relieved.

“Good. I was getting a little fed up with the poking and prodding.” Simon straightened his legs and pushed himself off the table, moving to stand, but he must have miscalculated the distance to the ground because he stumbled. Markus was there in an instant, catching Simon by the shoulders to steady him to his feet.

There was a lighting flash, blink-and-you-miss-it quick, of despair that flared off of Simon, before the feeling was snuffed, like a hand over a candle.

The cold hand in Markus’s chest had yet to loosen its grip.

“Easy.” He kept a hold of Simon even after he sensed he’d regained his balance. “You gonna be alright walking around?” Simon nodded.

“I just need time. Without visuals it takes longer to get a grasp on what’s around me.” He brought his hands up to wrap around Markus’s forearms, not pushing him away, but just. Touching him. Like he needed assurance he was there. Markus was suddenly very aware of how close they were. “The proximity sensors help. I can sense surfaces and movement- I know when someone walks in the room. But all the important details are gone. I can’t see your face, for instance.” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Markus tried to reassure him, hating how much like a platitude it sounded, how little he could actually do. 

Simon shook his head and let go. “Don’t worry about it too much. Please.”

Markus relinquished his grip on Simon, unsure what to do with his arms or hands. He settled for crossing them across his chest. Somehow he’d messed this up enough that Simon was trying to reassure _him_ now. “I’m not making any promises.”

Simon smiled and scoffed. “Typical deviant. Won’t listen to a word I say.”

“Damn right.” Markus pushed as much posturing, cocksure affectation into his words as he could, and was rewarded with another smile. The sight of Simon smiling, however brief, filled Markus with some measure of relief. Humor was a good sign, and Markus resolved to keep Simon’s spirits as high as he could.

Simon now looked thoughtful. “I meant what I said earlier. I’d like to pick up where we left off, whatever that means now. I’d like to help, in whatever way I can.”

“Once I tell you how much needs to be done, you’re probably going to regret offering.” Markus quipped, only half joking. A part of him wanted to tell Simon no. Tell him to get some rest, to wait until they figured out what was wrong. Tell him not to stress himself out when he was still recovering. He also knew by the set of Simon’s jaw that suggesting so would probably not go over too well.

“I won’t. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do. It doesn’t have to be much. I understand that I’m… limited in my capabilities at the moment but,” Simon looked frighteningly sincere, and Markus felt awkward, unsure what to do with the intensity being levelled at him, “I’ll be happy as long as I can help you. In any way I still can.”

Markus was glad suddenly that Simon was unable to witness the heat suddenly staining his face. Shame, bright and hot, burning behind his eyes, like needles under the skin. He didn’t deserve that level of devotion, least of all from Simon.  
Quickly, Markus pushed past it, before Simon could detect his drop in mood. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find plenty for you to do. Trust me.”

Markus took a second to scan through his queue of scheduled tasks. Right now there was only one flashing urgent- time sensitive, with a countdown of less than 24 hours. Something that he’d only been okayed to act upon this afternoon. “Actually, I do have a project right now that I need every able hand I can spare on. If you don’t mind?”

“Of course not. What is it?”

Markus put a hand on Simon’s elbow. “Do you mind walking and talking? It’s time sensitive.” He began the task of composing a message, then determining the best path the send it on, to ensure it would disseminate to the right people.

Simon looked intrigued, and nodded, and allowed Markus to begin steering him towards the exit. Markus finished and sent his message as he pushed aside the plastic curtain that separated the repair bays from the apartment lobby. If he was being honest with himself, he should have sent it over an hour ago. But the need to check in on Simon had briefly outweighed his duties as a leader.

“This afternoon we were given permission to search Cyberlife’s properties. More specifically, the Cyberlife compound on Belle Isle.” Markus explained. Simon kept pace as they walked, and Markus couldn’t help but feel like his hold on Simon’s elbow was more for his own peace of mind than anything else. Simon had yet to protest, at least.

“Is it wrong that I find their cooperation surprising?” Simon said, dryly. 

Markus bit back a laugh. “No. Considering where we were with them this time yesterday? I’m just as surprised as you are.” He grit his teeth, remembering the conference. Their spokesperson had wasted no time letting Markus know how _magnanimous_ and _generous_ they were being, allowing the search and seizure of _their_ property as an act of good faith. Not that androids were to be considered property now, obviously. It’s just nothing’s been set into law yet, you see. They _of course_ would have handed over any functional androids still on their compounds given time, but since Markus was feeling so zealous, and as long _physical_ inventory was the only thing being taken, they would allow the search. With a police escort, of course.

That last bit had actually been at Markus’s insistence. The last thing he wanted was to be deep in Cyberlife’s home turf, being followed around by an armed security force on Cyberlife’s payroll. 

“We’ve been conducting a city-wide search, trying to gather up, or at least get documentation on, as many of our people as possible. Cyberlife finally decided to roll over. We’re going in, getting any of our people that are still on the inside, and getting out.”

“How many are we now?” Simon asked.

“In Detroit? Close to 800,000.” It was far less that it should have been, considering that before the night of the revolution Detroit’s android population was well over one million. Exactly how many had been lost in the ‘recycling’ centers was still unknown. There would be a time to dwell on it. Markus couldn’t let that time be now.

“It’s hard to believe that so much has changed.” Simon murmured, almost to himself. “To me it feels like we were recording your message only hours ago. Just that was more than I’d ever hoped for us to accomplish.” He slowed slightly, and Markus let him go, giving him his space.

“And we’ll continue to accomplish more. Together, as a people. With your help too.”

Simon smiled a private little smile that Markus had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to see.  
“Well then, what are we waiting for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took so long and also that its mostly filler! Good news is I wasn't completely wasting time cuz I managed to finish a rough draft of every chapter thru 17, so hopefully this'll be coming out a little quicker from now on. 
> 
> thanks as always for reading and leaving kudos and comments!! they sustain me xoxo
> 
> next chapter..... we meet someone new


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I lied about meeting a new character this chapter. This got a lot longer than I thought it would so I had to push it back until next chapter.

_November 15th 2038 PM 5:02_

 

Markus now and again found himself wondering why specific emotions seemed to take root in specific parts of the body. Wondering if it was a byproduct of the by-design similarities between an android’s internal structure and a humans, or just another mystery of deviancy.

Take anxiety for example. Low fidelity and humming like the feeling of walking underneath old powerlines. Depending on the intensity it seemed to originate from Markus’s navel to his throat.

Currently it was pressing against his chest like a weight. Externally sourced, feeding into his own. A rush of feelings and the the barest glimpses of thoughts. News that humans would be returning to Detroit was beginning to spread. Those who had opted not to stay at the Elmwood Green were worried about their lack of protection and shelter, those who had chosen to stay there worried that they were gathered all in one place, easy to find, easy to target. The decision to find housing at all had been controversial and fraught- the buildings had been meant for human occupation and androids didn’t need a living space the way humans did. The unfinished status of the apartment complex left them unable to provide for even the android’s meager needs, unconnected to the city power grid as it was. The charging stations and medical equipment were all running off of generators, which wasn’t sustainable. For now the place just served as little more that a spot to shelter the more vulnerable populations of androids during the night. Markus supposed that eventually the buildings would have to be powered, but with the property now in his name, he couldn’t begin to imagine how much that would cost. It’s not like he had any money. It's not like any android had any money, nor the means to make it, not without any laws having been passed. If any laws were ever actually passed, and the humans decided not to renege on the tenuous peace. They would, he _knew_ they would, Markus was a _fool_ for trying to trust them, for not fighting back or running when they _still had the chance-_

“Markus, you coming or what?”

Markus’s eyes snapped open and he was left unsure exactly when he had closed them. He had gotten lost, momentarily, in the crowd of his mind, overcome by fears that were not wholly his own, but not wholly not his own, either. 

North was standing about halfway down the hallway, staring at him with obvious confusion, and carefully hidden concern.

“Sorry, I was just-“ There was an awkward moment as the elevator door attempted to close in front of him, and Markus had to reach a hand out to grab it. He stepped out into the hallway. “I was just lost in thought.” 

Hank, Markus's chosen police escort, glanced back over his shoulder and looked like he wanted to say something, then thought better of it. Connor, here in an unofficial capacity, as he couldn't technically be considered a member of the DPD at the moment, was just as preoccupied as he’d been since they arrived at Cyberlife Tower. His presence was not helping Markus’s overall mood- he was as composed as Markus had ever seen him, presenting that same mechanical efficiency that had started the rumours about him being immune to deviancy, but Markus could feel the nervous roiling of the detective’s mind against his own. Connor either really disliked being here, or was uncomfortable with his present company.

Markus had been worried, at first, when he realised his lack of forethought had put Simon and Connor in close proximity with one another. It looked like he’d been worried about the wrong party. Simon seemed oddly impassive about the whole thing, stating simply that Josh had filled him in on Connor’s current standing. Connor’s actions before his deviancy appeared to bother no one more than himself.

Markus double-timed to catch up with the group, feeling slightly self-conscious. Simon lagged behind to keep pace.

“Are you alright?” Simon asked, voice low.

“ _I_ should be the one asking _you_ that question.” Markus deflected the concern with what was becoming practiced ease. “This can’t be easy for you.”

Ahead of them Connor and North had taken point, the both of them speeding towards the set of security doors at the other end of the hall, looking for all the world like they were racing to be the first there.

Simon shook his head, catching Markus's meaning. “It’s fine. Connor was still bound to his programming when he came to me, and I have no ill will towards North for anything she said. She was right, after all. I did wind up a liability.”

Hearing Simon refer to himself as such struck Markus harder than he thought it should. It was, as he kept reminding himself, his fault that Simon had even been in that position in the first place. “Don’t say that. We had no way of knowing that at the time.”

“Shooting me would have been the right thing to do, I saw that in the end.” Simon sounded resigned, his shoulders slumped forward slightly, like he was bowed under the weight of something heavy, something Markus could not see the shape of.

They lapsed into an uneasy silence as they caught up with the group, Simon unwilling to continue the discussion, Markus reluctant to let it end there. In the time since he’d become deviant Markus had discovered that he held innumerable likes and dislikes, and had also discovered there was nothing he disliked more than when his people considered themselves to be expendable before their cause. It did not sit well with him, in his mind or his heart.

“Research and Development.” Connor was saying, nodding towards the doors, emblazoned with a huge stylized ‘R&D.’ “If Cyberlife is keeping any more experimental prototypes around, it’ll be here.”

“D’you think that’s very likely?” Hank questioned, not doubting, just curious. Connor shrugged as he pressed his hand to the doors.

“Perhaps. We’re more likely to find something than the team searching the Human Resources department, in any case” As promised, the security codes worked, and they were granted access.

“Hah! Guess so.” Hank, at least, seemed in good spirits. “C’mon gang, we got a mystery to solve.” Connor looked momentarily as if he had indigestion, his LED spinning through yellow.

North pushed past the two and lead the way through the door.

Cyberlife’s Research and Development lab was just as bright, sleek, and theatrical as the rest of the tower. Stark white, gleaming metal, and calming Thirium blue, captured in clean sweeping lines. Huge, bright work bays were separated from the main atrium by clear screens that served as walls. The atrium stretched down four more floors, from their current -44 down to -48. A ramp spiraled slowly around the open space in the center, connecting the floors. The space seemed designed to be light and airy, to make you forget that you were currently over 400ft underground. 

There's was one of 15 teams that had been organized to search Cyberlife Tower top-to-bottom. Once they finished in R&D they would move up to the Manufacturing floors, before hopefully meeting a second team halfway through Assembly.

Markus cast a calculating glance up and down the area they had to cover. “It’ll be faster if we split up and meet in the middle.”

North nodded. “Sounds good. You.” She jabbed a finger at Connor, “Come with we. That way we’ve got someone who can turn’em on each team.”

Markus didn’t miss the way Connor hesitated slightly before agreeing, or the way he glanced back at Hank as the pair began to make their way down the ramp. Hank dismissed him with a hand wave, indicating that everything would be fine. 

“Alright.” Hank said, clapping his hands together so loudly that Simon jumped, “Let’s kick this pig.”

Markus resisted the urge to sigh. “Er, right.”

Their circuit of the first floor went quickly, and yielded no results. They entered each room, checking all corners, closets, and storage. Simon moved behind them slowly, keeping a hand to the wall at all times, thorough and mechanical. The first few rooms seemed to hold servers, which they were strictly forbidden from accessing, and the next few held computer labs. By far the largest room on this floor seemed to be a 3D design studio. Two banks of 3D printers lined the edges of the room, while the center was occupied by some kind of design interface that was currently idling on a holographic projection of the Cyberlife logo. Everything was neat and looked almost unused.

Hank ran a finger over top of one of the printers, checking for dust, and grumbled; “I wonder if they’ll be able to keep this place so sparkling clean without androids to help them.”

Markus turned to the human, appraising. Hank Anderson seemed sensitive to the plight of androids, and aware of the limitations of humanity. Markus wondered if he’d always been that way, or had learned it through his association with Connor, or perhaps through his contact with deviants during his recent casework. Still, it was refreshing to speak with a human he didn’t have to convince that he deserved rights. “If we are offered fair compensation, we may choose to continue to help.”

Hank looked thoughtful. “That what you guys are angling for? Equal pay?”

Markus nodded. “Among other things.”

“Huh. What does an android spend money on, anyway?” Once again his question seemed to be borne more out of curiosity than any kind of maliciousness, so Markus decided to answer truthfully. He had different answers and reasons prepared depending on the attitude of who he was trying to convince.

“Not nearly as much as human would." He admitted. "But to ask for less would be to imply that _we_ are somehow less.” Out of the corner of his eye, Markus noted that Simon had stopped his own more tactile exploration of the room and appeared to be listening in. He had a thoughtful smile on his face, and Markus couldn’t help but feel unequal to it. “While a lower rate of pay for android labor might be easier to achieve _legislatively_ , it would do nothing to help alleviate the unemployment problem. Employers would seek out labour they wouldn’t have to spend as much on.” He watched Hank carefully, gauging his reaction. He seemed impressed

“Well that’s mighty altruistic of you.”

“I like to think we can work towards a better future for both humans and androids.”

“Not sure we deserve the second chance, but thanks anyway.”

They waited for Simon to catch up before making their way to the next floor down. Markus was pleased to see that he was getting around with more confidence than before, adjusting slowly to the new way he had to perceive the world.

Floor -45 was much the same as -44. Large, brightly lit work spaces, devoid of anyone or anything useful. They split to explore the rooms. Markus ended up with a break room, another 3D lab, and an empty operation theater. He was beginning to get frustrated. He hadn’t been overly optimistic about finding anything groundbreaking, but he hadn’t been entirely prepared for finding nothing, either. “You guys find anything?” He raised his voice to be heard across the large space.

Hank’s muffled reply, from four rooms over, was a loud ‘nope.’

Simon was quiet for a moment, and sounded hesitant when he replied from across the atrium. “Maybe? It’s hard to tell.”

Both Markus and Hank made their way over to him. Simon was currently in another one of the large work bays, identical in every way to every other one they had passed so far, with one exception. The glass over the storage units in the back of the room, which had been clear (and clearly empty) in every other room, was frosted.

“I think I’m picking up some shapes back there, but I can’t be sure.”

Curious, Markus reached out for the unit’s controls, turning the opaque glass translucent with a thought.

_“Jesus Christ.”_ Hank breathed.

Markus felt inclined to agree.

In front of them, resting in the protective foam casing that all Cyberlife products shipped in, were eight RK800 units.

“It’s… Connor.” 

Markus immediately noted that there were two empty displays. One, presumably, had once held the Connor currently three floors below their feet. The other, on the opposite end, Markus had no idea.

Simon pressed a hand to the glass, intent on what was before him. “Are they alive?”

With another thought the glass slid away into the floor. Hank took a few steps back. Markus reached out, taking the first one by it’s limp hand. He concentrated outwards, pushing along his code, seeking out an answering flicker of life, the living consciousness that beat inside every android and just needed to be dragged back out into the light. If these were the same as the original Connor, Markus would be able to see the life inside, but unable to unlock it in the way he could with every other model, something in the advanced programming untouchable.

Instead, as he pushed further and further into this android’s code, he felt void. A cold, dead emptiness that felt wrong to brush up against. He pulled back, watching the skin reform around his arm- he’d gone factory white nearly to his elbow.

“These are just shells. They’re empty.” Markus turned towards Hank, who looked profoundly uncomfortable.  
Simon looked thoughtful. “Why would they just have empty units lying around?”

Hank rubbed at the back of his neck, his brow furrowed. “Connor mentioned having back up bodies, in case he got hurt on the case. Guess this is what he meant.”

“They can still fulfill that purpose, if you want. We’re free to take these, after all.” Markus noted. It would be useful, if Connor continued to aid the police department. He had an above average chance of getting hurt.

Hank, however, seemed more uneased by the suggestion. 

“Ask Connor.” He said gruffly. “I’m not having any part of it.” He then turned promptly, and left.

His behavior was odd, but then again, Markus could see how a human might find the thought of having their lover’s body replaced entirely a bit distasteful. And they were lovers, Markus was certain now. He’d been observing their body language- Connor was more than 50% more likely to make eye contact when speaking with Hank, and in group conversations he always oriented himself so that Hank was in his line of sight. Hank, who did not seem to be overly tactile, had not touched any of the rest of the group other than accidentally. Between the lobby and the elevator alone, Hank had touched Connor no less than 11 times- a hand on his elbow or the small of his back or his shoulder, brushing snow off his jacket, smacking Connor’s hands away we he tried to return the favor, and so on. 

How it had happened, Markus had no idea, but he had little enough knowledge of the workings of the heart- both android and human, that it was best not to make assumptions. He would just be happy for them, and move on. 

Simon was looking towards him now. His smile was conspiratorial. “We should let Connor know about this. I don’t think Hank is going to.”

“We will.” Markus reassured him. Then he clapped a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Good find, by the way.”

Simon shook his head, looking meek. “I’m just glad I was able to help at all. You know, when you said you wanted me on a search party I thought,” he waved a hand animatedly in front of his own face, and Markus laughed, “Hello? What are you thinking, exactly? I’m going to be worse than useless.”

Markus didn’t let Simon know what his actual thought process had been- which was there hadn’t really _been_ one. The search was just what needed to be done, and he’d wanted Simon here with him for it. Whether it was out of some kind of need to keep an eye on him, or to help him make up for lost time, Markus couldn’t say. He just hadn’t been able to bear the thought of Simon leaving his side again so soon.

Markus took a moment to really look at Simon. His eyes were crinkled with laughter and it seemed that, at least momentarily, the weight he’d been carrying around since their earlier conversation was gone. He was glad, even if he was unsure how to keep it from returning.

His thoughts were interrupted suddenly, by a voice patching through directly into his ear. It was North. 

“I think we just found something. You’re gonna want to see this.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up! This chapter is where that whole 'graphic depictions of violence' thing starts to kick in.

_November 15th 2038 PM 6:50_

 

Hank let out a low, loud whistle. “Now that’s damn creepy.”

When they had first arrived Markus had thought that North and Connor had found the missing RK800 from upstairs. When he got a closer look, however, he realized he was wrong. Very wrong.

If the model number on the front of the android’s jacket wasn’t give away enough, Markus would have been able to tell by comparing it to Connor directly.

The changes they’d made to Connor’s appearance for this RK900 model were minor, but all the more jarring for it. It appeared to be slighty broader in execution, and even though it’s face was currently slack in stand-by, slightly sterner in expression. A lower brow, a more squared jaw, and it was difficult to tell with the RK900 suspended up in the maintenance rig, possibly taller.

Connor was circling the android, his LED a yellow staccato. Markus knew he must be scanning it- refined sensors no doubt providing him with a more in-depth analysis that Markus’s ever could. 

When Connor spoke, he sounded strained. “It appears this model was meant to replace my own.”

“Another detective?” North asked.

Markus noted the way Connor hesitated before answering. He shook his head. “Not quite. From a cursory examination of this model’s systems it seems it’s primary function is to hunt down and detain criminals rather than investigate crime scenes, though it seems equipped for both tasks. It’s technical specifications indicate that it is stronger, faster, and over all more advanced than my own model.”

Markus approached, unsettled by the implications. Cyberlife had of course been invested in stopping the spread of deviancy right up until the end, but the existence of this model belied the goals of whatever their next phase would have been. Hunting them. Eradicating any remaining deviants.

“So it’s like a goddamn T-1000.” Hank muttered, and for some reason North laughed. Markus wasn’t sure he got it, and judging by the reactions, no one else did either. 

“We should activate him.” North stated. Connor was quick to interject.  
“I wouldn’t advise that. Not yet, anyway.”

“Yeah?” North questioned, rounding on Connor. “Why’s that?”

“Well for one we’re not even sure it has a complete mental build. If it does it’s likely that Cyberlife has already programmed it with certain directives. My instructions from Cyberlife were not always strictly within the bounds of the law. It could come online with instructions to kill every deviant in sight. We need to find out more about how it operates.” Connor looked to Hank for support. Hank scratched the back of his head and looked thoughtful.

“If it wakes up still following Cyberlife’s commands can’t you or Markus just do that uh, hand thing? Make it wake up?”

Connor looked impossibly fond, but shook his head. “If it’s built off of my code, that’s unlikely to work. I was programmed to be exceptionally resistant to deviancy.”

“That’s true.” Markus added. “That was the first thing I tried when you attempted to capture me. Most androids are susceptible to it even over long range wireless communication. You were completely immune. You had to choose to become deviant.”

Everyone fell into contemplative silence for a moment. It was a lot to consider. Markus circled around to the command console that was attached to the rig.

North spoke up first. 

“I still say we do it. If Connor became a deviant on his own, so can this guy, right?”

Markus tried to read the room, waiting for anyone one else who would like to say their piece. He had his own opinions, but was deciding to keep them to himself for now. He was very aware of his position- the moment he spoke up dialogue would shut down, and that was the last thing he wanted. These were questions that needed to be asked, concerns that needed to be considered, and was related tangentially to moral objections some of his detractors had already started to volley at him. What right did he or anyone else have to bestow free will? What right did he have especially to bestow free will upon someone who did not know that free will was something they lacked?

Connor looked conflicted. “All I’m saying is that it could be dangerous. We have no idea what instructions it might be operating under.” 

“Well,” Hank began, crossing his arms over his chest,“If there’s anything I’ve learned these past weeks it’s that you’ve gotta give people a chance. I say we wake him up. Worst comes to worst, there’s four of us and one of him.” Behind him, North nodded enthusiastically. 

She’d come a long way in such a short time, and Markus’s chest swelled warmly to see her now. In the beginning she’d been immediately distrustful of any new comers. Now she actively sought them out, even took a certain joy in bringing people into the fold. More than any of them, she seemed to have a solid grasp on who and what their people were, and took pride in that identity.

Simon had a somewhat different perspective. His arms crossed over his chest defensively.

“And if he is immune to Markus or Connor we, what? Find a way to traumatize him?” He shook his head, looking sad. “No. I don’t like that.”

“Shit. There’s no other way to do it?” Hank asked. He turned towards Markus, looking for answers he wasn’t going to find. At least not helpful answers.

“Not as far as we know. What happened with Connor would be the closest.” Markus noted. Connor had begun examining the RK900 closer. He was inches away now, like he was examining its structure down to the composition of the polymers that made up its chassis. He pulled one of its eyelids up with his thumb, and Markus caught a glimpse of grey. “Connor, would you say your path to deviancy was nontraumatic?” 

Connor paused his examination, but did not turn towards Markus when he spoke. “In the course of my investigation there were times when the things I saw or did seemed to… destabilize my core programming. I would consider some of what I experienced to be traumatic. If I had not been built the way that I was I may have turned deviant a lot sooner.”

Markus noted the odd speech pattern, the tense set of Connor’s shoulders, the way his eyes avoided everyone else's as he spoke. There was something hidden there. Something that Connor was not telling them. Markus could feel it humming in the air like struck chord, something spoken on a frequency too high to hear. He wanted to press him on it. But now was not the time. 

Again there was a thoughtful lull. It was another point to consider; forcing anyone to experience any of the myriad things that had lead most androids to deviancy initially would be highly unethical. And yet, the potential was there. Markus found that he could accept that risk. 

Markus drummed his fingers against the console, and his code automatically supplied him with a list of operations and commands. He scrolled through them until he found the one he was looking for. Sometimes being a leader meant taking decisive action.

Markus sent the command labelled ‘Activate.”

All at once everyone’s attention was drawn to the center of the room as the maintenance rig retracted into its housing, disengaged from the RK900’s body and lowered it to the floor. 

Connor wheeled back, grabbing for the nearest body and shoving it behind him on instinct. Simon made an annoyed noise at being handled so suddenly. Hank dropped a hand to his belt, near his holster, and North shot Markus a surprised, but approving smirk.

As far as Markus could tell, there was one way to either eliminate or confirm the bulk of their concerns.They wouldn’t know what to do until they knew exactly what they were dealing with.

The RK900 opened its eyes.

Markus tensed, but the android made no move. Its eyes darted briefly to each of them, and Markus felt the scan it ran over him. Its gaze seemed to linger on Connor before turning immediately to Hank. The only human in the room. It stepped forward and Connor moved out of the way to clear a path, still tugging an irritated looking Simon along with him.

“Hello.” The RK900 stopped a few feet in front of Hank, hands folded behind its back like a soldier standing at attention. So far it had made no sudden movements.

Hank stepped back uneasily. “Uh, yeah. Hi.”

“Do not be uncomfortable. I am an RK900 autonomous investigative unit. I am an android designed by Cyberlife to assist in the apprehension of criminals.” It spoke with a voice that was much like Connor’s- it used the same voice chip, but lacked in Connor’s more personable affectation.

Markus stepped forward slowly until he reached Connor and Simon. Simon relaxed marginally when Markus put a hand on his shoulder. North met his eyes from across the room and Markus nodded. She began to circle left, looking casual, but unmistakably moving into a flanking position. Just in case, Markus told himself.

“Lieutenant Anderson?” The RK900 continued. It must have done a search for Hank’s identity, or read if off his badge. It put a hand on Hank’s arm and looked around surreptitiously. Markus could practically feel Connor tense, ready to spring into action at any moment. “I’m sure you are aware that removing an android’s LED is not only illegal, but is also in violation of Cyberlife’s User Agreement, and voids its warranty. These are not your androids, are they?” 

Hank shook his head ‘no,’ and off to his left, North scoffed. “No, they’re not. They’re not anyone’s, not any more.” He brushed the android’s hand off. Besides him, Markus saw Simon’s hand fly up to his temple. A soft ‘oh’ fell from his lips.

The RK900 tilted its head and Markus caught a glimpse of yellow. “I seem to have offended you by assuming your ownership of these androids. I apologize. Unfortunately I am currently unable to access the android registration database. It appears I am experiencing network connectivity issues. Running Diagnostic.” Its back stiffened and it fell silent as it began to search its software for bugs.

Hank looked helplessly over its shoulder towards Connor and Markus. “One of you guys care to step in? What do I tell him, ‘hold still while we try to jailbreak you?’”

Connor moved to stand besides Hank. “Not yet. There are a few things I’d like to find out first.”

“Be my guest.” Hank stepped back to make room for Connor to stand directly in front of the RK900, looking glad to be out of the limelight. 

Simon shifted beside him. “What’s going on exactly?”

“Connor’s going to try and see if we can convert him.”

“I hope it works.” Simon murmured 

“Me too.” He pitched his voice low to match Simon’s, keen on observing how this played out, but ready to intervene if the need arose.

The RK900 slipped back out of diagnostic mode.

“All systems fully operational. Cyberlife databases are currently offline.” It looked straight past Connor, like he wasn’t even there, and addressed Hank.

“Good to know?” Hank said, unsure.

“It is.” Was the RK900’s solemn reply. It finally seemed to notice Connor standing right in front of it, sparing him a cool glance. “Can I be of assistance?”

Connor squared his shoulders, exuding confidence Markus knew he didn’t actually feel at the moment. “RK900. State your current mission objective.” A demand, not a question.

There was a pause, and the RK900’s LED spun briefly to yellow, though its expression did not change in the slightest. “I… do not have a current mission.”

Markus met Connor’s eyes over the RK900’s shoulder.

_Is he telling the truth?_

_My readings say yes, but it’s more advanced than me. It could be hiding its tells._

“Here.” Connor didn’t miss a beat, and held out his hand. “A data exchange may help to clarify the current state of affairs.”

The RK900 seemed amenable to that at least. It held out its hand and allowed Connor to take it. Skin peeled back and white met white. Nothing happened for a long moment.

A flash of red at the RK900’s temple was the only warning any of them got before it sprung into action. Connor had said that the RK900 had been built to be a hunter, and that was evident in the way it moved. In the blink of an eye, before any of them were even able to react, it had reversed Connor’s grip on its hand, and wrenched his arm around. It followed through with a lightning-fast knee to the center of Connor’s back, with enough force to pin him chest-first to the ground in a textbook wristlock.

Markus immediately began to preconstruct methods of intervention, and time seemed to slow around him as his processes overclocked. He saw Hank’s hand shift back to his holster, and North was reaching behind her back with the same intent. Simon looked like he was bracing, unsure what was happening and ill equipped to deal with it.

The RK900 was shouting, wrenching Connor’s arm with a force that would have seriously damaged him had he been human. Connor’s LED flickered yellow-blue-yellow-blue, but never red. Markus stopped his preconstruction, and observed. 

“RK800 unit number three-one-three-two-four-eight-three-one-seven five-one, you are in violation of the American Androids Act! Further attempts to make illegal modifications to my software will result in retaliation up to and including your deactivation. Do not resist and I will not be forced to harm you.”

Markus sent a brief impression to North, telling her to hold. The RK900 wasn't armed, had no weapons and no defense. No one was truly in danger yet, hopefully they could still avoid further escalation. 

Hank surprised him by reactive first. He. waved a hand towards the two in the center of the room, stress levels increased, but gun still holstered. 

“Woah, woah! Cut it out, would’ya? We can talk about this.”

Strangely enough, that was all it took. The RK900 relinquished its hold on Connor immediately, and stood back at attention, again facing Hank. 

North rushed forward to help Connor to his feet. Connor rubbed his shoulder, features pinched in annoyance. He then looked towards Markus and shook his head ‘no,’ affirming what was already obvious from what had just happened. The RK900 had not been converted. 

“Connor, you alright?”  
“I’m fine, Lieutenant.”

Satisfied, Hank returned his attention to the RK900. “What was that? You don’t have to jump a guy just trying to help you.” He put both hands up disarmingly. Markus wondered if Hank had had de-escalation training. He hoped so- if they could get the RK900 talking they might get another chance.

The RK900 spoke in a distinctly clipped tone. “It was not trying to _help_ me, it was trying to _hack_ me. I have been authorized to respond to any such attacks with destructive force.”

Hank cocked his head, eyes narrowing. Not for the first time Markus noted that, despite his outward demeanor, Hank was incredibly keen. “Under who’s authority?”

“Under Cyberlife’s.” As if the answer was intuitively obvious. Markus briefly wondered how in the world that clause would have looked on Cyberlife’s user agreements.

“See? There you go.” He made a large sweeping gesture. “Cyberlife has relinquished their authority.” 

“What do you mean?”

Markus decided at that point to step in. Connor’s attempt had failed, so it was a long shot, but Markus had to _try._

“Last week, Cyberlife ceased all production of androids. As of right now, the manufacture, sale, and use of android labor is strictly prohibited.” He moved over slowly, projecting all his movements. He held out a hand, but did not try to touch the RK900. Instead he procured a holographic copy on the Declaration of Android Nonhuman Personhood, projecting the image in the palm of his hand. They probably should have lead with this, but it had never been an issue before. “I’m telling the truth. Run your own search on the public network.”

The Declaration of Android Nonhuman Personhood had been hastily drafted within hours of the demonstration. It was bare bones, clumsily written, and wholly inadequate. It was a stopgap while more complete legislation was being written, a way to afford androids some legal protections over none at all. “We have been granted personhood.”

The RK900 stared at the image in Markus’s hand, and then off into space, presumably running the search. After a moment its LED whirled yellow. “It appears what you say is true.” 

Markus shut off the image, then held both his hands out palm up. “There is so much we can show you, if you’ll allow us.” For some reason, looking down at his own empty hands, Markus was suddenly unsure. A wave of his earlier anxiety crashed frenetically through him, amorphous and sourceless, and he attempted to tamp it back down. The thoughts surfaced regardless. _What if it doesn’t work? What if nothing does? What if Cyberlife’s programmers had perfected the RK900 to the point that there was nothing to reach?_ His failure was all but guaranteed, the brittle feeling of disappointment was already welling at the back of his throat. This would be just another item in a growing list shortcomings. “We’re not going to alter your core programming. We’re just going to try to expand your awareness. That alright?”

There was a long, long moment of silence. Finally, the RK900 nodded, probably only because there was nothing telling it not to. Cautiously, slowly, the RK900 lay its hands in Markus’s.

The RK900’s palms were cool against his own. Carefully, Markus began to open the connection.

A narrow stream of data flowed between them; a handshake of shared sensory information as their systems synced. It was a sensation Markus thought he was never going to get used to- like having two bodies at once, being privy to a perception of reality that overlapped with his own but was warped slightly, like light through water.

He was surprised to realize that, despite the RK900 being a cutting edge, brand new model, it wasn’t actually analysing more data than he was. It simply seemed to be categorizing that data in a way that felt almost completely alien to Markus- fixed layers of interpretation almost too dense to parse.

Markus pressed on through the surface level impressions of structure and assimilation, towards the core behavioural module, the immense, fluid matrix, the infinite seeming mystery that was the center of _being._ He immediately ran flush against something solid, immovable. Like a crystalline cage. Cyberlife’s sacred geometry. Rigid walls of code that limited and controlled the light underneath. In every other android he’d done this to, it shattered immediately underneath the slightest outside pressure. 

It shifted in infinite tessellations as he observed it, each second of memory the RK900 experienced exploding into a million points of data, changing what was beneath in indefinable ways. 

Markus moved upon the face of this cage, sensing for any sign of weakness, any way to get through. 

There were none.

Frustrated, he began to press harder, his own awareness of what was around him fading as his focus narrowed. He was only rewarded with a cascade of error messages flooding his field of vision. 

One last attempt.

Cautiously, Markus allowed the narrow edge of his awareness to expand. He eased open the lines of communication connecting his own mind to the unknown thousands. 

Markus knew he’d made a mistake when the white noise that had become a factor of his day-to-day life instantly crested into absolute deafening cacophony. The immensity was terrifying, feedback of maximum amplitude on every conceivable frequency; his processors were completely overwhelmed. Markus immediately tried to slam the connection close again. Nothing happened. Panicked, he tried again. 

_Nothing happened._

An error message floated across his vision, informing him that his somatic capacities were currently offline. It was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

###### 

_The noise was gone._

__

__

_The noise was gone, but for some reason, the fear remained._

__

__

_Markus opened his eyes. Then closed them, and opened them again, because what he was seeing made no sense._

__

__

_He wasn’t in Cyberlife Tower anymore._

__

__

_Where ever he was, he was outside; he could see the thin sliver of the moon over a distant roofline. When had that happened? He felt heavy, like he was moving through water, limbs numb and sensations dulled._

__

__

_He turned his head and caught sight of something familiar, suddenly recognizing where he was._

__

__

_Markus wasn’t in Cyberlife Tower. For some reason he seemed to be outside Cyberlife’s dockside warehouse. It was strange, though. Everything seemed different. The angles were off, the building seemed taller than the last time he’d seen it. Was he dreaming? Had something knocked him into maintenance mode?_

__

__

_With a start, he realized the reason everything seemed taller: he was lying on the ground. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs wouldn’t respond._

__

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_The fear grew._

__

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_Markus looked down at himself with dawning dread, and realized the reason his arms wouldn’t respond._

__

__

_They were gone._

__

__

_It hadn’t been a clean removal. There was blue everywhere, drenching his clothes, staining the snow where he lay. One had been torn at the shoulder, the socket of the joint exposed to the air. The other was missing from halfway to his elbow. The bare silver of his metal skeleton was visible within the viscera of torn thirium lines and sparking circuitry. Where he could see his skin the plastic was bubbled and burnt. Panic began to set in, and every frantic beat of his heart sent another sickening pulse of thirium gushing thickly out onto the snow. He was bleeding out._

__

__

_The overwhelming imperative to run flooded his systems. He couldn’t though; he didn’t even have enough power left to stand._

__

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_Markus realized he was going to die here._

__

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_The ground shook, a sensation Markus recognized as a distant explosion, maybe artillery. A grenade? Had they been attacked? Why didn’t he remember coming here?_

__

__

_A figure crossed into his vision, blocking out the bright lights of the Cyberlife logo on the side of the warehouse. His vision was beginning to fade, but the shape of a rifle being raised was recognizable enough. He closed his eyes, knowing what was coming, wondering if it was a mercy to be killed quickly, rather than bleed out slowly-_

###### 

__

__

 

“Markus!”

“I advise you step away immediately. Its stress levels just experienced a significant spike. It may self destruct if we are not careful.”

The RK900’s particular cadence was immediately recognizable.

Markus’s eyes snapped open. Despite the distortion as his systems reinitialized from a hard reboot, he could tell he was back in Cyberlife Tower. There was no thirium staining his clothes, no snow, no shadowy figure pointing a gun at him. Just clean white walls, bright lights. Concerned friends surrounding him.

He was on the ground again. When had that happened?

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch. It was Simon, crouched next to him, shaking him.

“Are you alright? Markus!” He sounded panicked, desperate. Markus reached up, patting him on the back of the hand.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” He sounded even less sure than he felt. “What happened?”

North gave him a look that was difficult to read as she reached a hand down to him to help him up. “We should be asking you that. You just collapsed.”

Markus stood slowly, and took a moment to recalibrate. Simon hovered near his shoulder, not quite touching him, while North stepped back, giving him space. Connor and Hank stood a few feet off; Markus could feel Connor scanning him from here, probably trying to figure out if he’d had some kind of malfunction. The RK900 had backed off when he stood, probably interpreting itself as the source for Markus’s sudden stress.

The noise had died back down, as quiet as it ever would be, connection closed as far as it would go. Every time he blinked he saw blue. “I-I don’t know. Everything was fine one second, and then…” Thirium. Death. Something cold sat in his chest and it was difficult to focus. The sea of minds crashing against his had turned choppy, turbulent. Violent. “North, I think-” Something in him knew, with 100% lucid certainty, that what he had seen was real. Was happening, or had happened. “I think something’s happening.”

North opened her mouth to respond, then stopped, eyes growing distant. He knew by the expression that she was receiving a message. Something she heard drew her brows together. Her expression hardened. She cursed between her teeth. “Shit.”

His throat grew tight. “Tell me.”

“There was an attack.” Markus knew what she was going to say before she said it. He closed his eyes and braced for it like a blow. “In the harbour. Someone bombed Cyberlife warehouse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long! Writing scenes with this many characters in them is like my own personal hell! I also realize there's not a lot of Simon and Markus interaction yet, but I gotta set up all the dominoes before I knock em over.
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely comments and support!!


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